


Sciles/Skittles Oneshots

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Peter Hale makes an appearance to scare Scott and Stiles with mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1.) Scott and Stiles seek Derek out for advice about werewolf sex. Traumatizing for all. (Sorry, no threesome.)<br/>2.) Papa McCall tries to interfere with Skittles/Sciles by intimidating Stiles. Scott is most displeased.<br/>3.) Scott gets Stiles through a panic attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scott’s hair is everywhere, stuck to his forehead from dry sweat and sticking up in little spikes everywhere else. His shirt (actually, that might be Stiles’ shirt) is on backwards and it’s clear he just pulled on his jeans sans boxers, bare feet shoved into muddy sneakers. Stiles is a bit more put together, his hoodie zipped all the way up and baggy jeans done up. His hair has been smoothed down, probably by nervous hands but then Derek notes he’s only wearing socks. Ignoring just the smells coming off the two, Derek has a pretty good idea of what went on just before they barged into his loft. He sighs and says,

"No. Get out."

Scott looks even more panicked, ” Dude, seriously. We’re really freaking out. I mean, what if I had kept pulling and his insides ca-“

"Scott!"

The alpha shuts up at Stiles' wail, seemingly tunned by what he found himself about to say. Derek just closes his eyes and tries to go to his happy place; of course, with that mental image, he can’t.

"Look, " Stiles says once he’s recovered, "We have one question and then we’ll leave, swearing never to speak of this again."

Stiles and his sharp hand gestures are very convincing but Derek is certain that all it takes is one question and his mind will be tainted forever. Still, perhaps having gone soft or deciding the benefit of doubt is the least he can offer, he groans. He doesn’t feel any better about his decision when it takes them a full five minutes to get the question out.

"Do werewolves, when aroused-"

"Dude, don’t ask it like that!"

"I’m trying to be clinical, okay! "

"Yeah, but I don’t want Derek thinking about my dick! Just ask if-"

Derek rubs his eyes, feeling a migraine coming on. He’s seconds away from throwing them out, question or no question, when Stiles cuts right to the chase.

"We just want to know if it’s normal for Scott to get stuck when he’s fucking me!"

Scott pales, looking between Stiles and Derek in pure horror. Derek has a feeling he has a similar expression but Stiles remains firm, sending the born-wolf an expectant look. When he’s met with silence, Stiles opens his mouth as if to explain more and Derek frantically intercepts.

"Yes. Yes, it’s normal." Scott sobs and Stiles lets out a relieved huff, " Well, not really. But it’s happened before, to…people."

Stiles raises an eyebrow at that then says, reaching over to pat Scott on the knee, ” See, this has nothing to do with your performance issues. If Derek’s heard of it, it’s probably really common.”

"It is common, between married couples. It usually happens when two wolves…decide to reproduce."

Derek might be alittle happy to see the sudden nervousness on Stiles' face. A full moment of silence passes by before their attention is drawn by the sound of deliberately loud footsteps on the staircase. Peter looks surprised to see them as he hops off the last step; then, he sniffs pointedly, ” Well, I guess congratulations are in order. When can we expect the new additions to the McCall pack?”

Scott looks like he might be sick and Derek can't help feeling nostalgic thinking about the pack expanding, remembering all his little cousins and siblings running around; it would be nice. His attention is then drawn when Scott yelps and he notes Stiles digging his fingers into their Alpha's leg with wide, unseeing eyes. Shaking his head as Peter poses innocently, Derek turns back to the couch and his open book; after all, Vonnegut beats teen baby scandals any day.


	2. Aaand Scott Says No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent McCall Better Taste the Rainbow. Warning: homophobia, intimidation, violence

He sighs loudly, trying his best to look put upon but Agent McCall seems to be immune at this point, which is no surprise. Stiles has been less than thrilled every other time he’d been called out of Calculus and shoved into an empty classroom. So dropping his backpack carelessly, he hops up on one of the front row desks as the older man calmly leans against the whiteboard; he’d given up on the looming, intimidating thing the fifth or sixth time he’d called Stiles out for “questioning”.

"Are we ever going to talk about the so called crime I was witness to or you going to continue and try and ruin my 4.0?"

McCall just lifted his chin as he observed the ceiling with interest, as if he was patiently waiting for something. Stiles rolled his eyes and whipped out his phone, half through a text to Lydia about taking her Christmas shopping in exchange for Calc notes when he had to jerk back to avoid his phone being taken, “John never was a disciplinarian. He was always so lenient…” McCall looked contemplative, “He never really acted like the man of the house either, I assume, never set a good example for how a boy should act.”

Stiles grit his teeth, finishing the text and hitting send so he could pocket his phone quickly; he had no doubts McCall would break his phone if he ignored him so he forced himself to at least look like he was listening, ” What do you think this is, 1950? So my dad isn’t the macho, kill a bear with his bare hands type. Gender roles aren’t exactly relevant anymore, dude. If you’d met Allison’s mom, who probably could kill a bear with her bare hands, you’d understand that. It’s not like Mr. Argent is fem either, just you can just tell he doesn’t wear the pan-“

"I tried to help, Stiles. I really did. I welcomed you into my home. I fed you, clothed you even, right after Claudia passed, " McCall’s eyes finally settled on Stiles when he flinched, " I think six days out of the week I’d come home to find you in the guest room because your father couldn’t be bothered-"

"It wasn’t like that-"

"But maybe I should have known when I’d more often than not come in to check on Scott and find that you’d slipped into his bed, " the federal agent’s eyes turned cold, " I should have known and maybe some part of me did but my wife-"

"Ex-wife-"

"…pitied you so much. An orphan, mother dead and father in the bottle…He needed a friend like Scott, a mother and father who could look after him and teach him how to be a man."

Stiles glared, hands forming fists in an effort to hide the shaking. McCall’s expression continued to be impassive, though rage boiled in his eyes in a way that made the hair on the teen’s neck raise. Fight or flight, Stiles thought as he looked for the clock on the wall; the lunch bell would soon-

"But we weren’t enough. Or maybe you just didn’t care about us and all that we did for you. Whatever the reason, " Stiles closed his eyes as McCall in leaned in close and hissed; Stiles finally begins to fight back a little when a hand clamps down on his shoulder, " -like a disease, you turned my son into this, this-"

"Stop, hey, don't-"

"-freak! You made my son a homosexual, made him think that it’s natural-" Stiles pleas tapered off as Agent McCall began to yell, grip increasing as his lips pulled back in a snarl, " to be with men! What about college, what about marriage and family, huh? Who’s going to hire a homosexual besides that sympathetic vet, who’s going to offer a scholarship to a fag-"

A second after Stiles hands met the older man’s chest in a desperate effort to push him away, the teen hit the floor from as well aimed shove. McCall panted where he stood several feet away. Stiles glared with watery eyes despite how shaken up he felt, not moving from his half curled half sprawled position on the empty classroom’s tiles. He tensed when the federal agent took a step forward but the motion was soon aborted when the lunch bell rang shrilly. Their eyes met for a brief second but Stiles quickly averted his gaze; he heard footsteps retreat from him before the door creaked on its hinges. Agent McCall called over his shoulder before the door swung shut.

"I think I have all the information I need, Mr. Stilinski. Thank you for your cooperation."

—-

Stiles manages to avoid Scott for one and a half hours before he’s grabbed from behind and dragged into the janitor’s closet by the band room. He chokes back a yelp before relaxing when red eyes flash in the dark. A hand soon grips his, a thumb caressing his knuckles, and he relaxes, letting Scott’s bemused voice wash over him.

"Dude, you missed lunch. I thought we were going off campus."

"Yeah, about that, I, um…"

He can’t see it in the near darkness but he has a feeling Scott is raising an eyebrow at him,” You okay? I don’t think you’ve ever passed up on opportunity to eat your weight in curly fries. “

Stiles forces a laugh and the grip on his hand increases and oh wow, he can totally picture Scott’s face right now; the kicked puppy look is still effective and Stiles lets out a sigh. His heart rate jumps no doubt as he tried hard to explain while certainly not telling the truth. He finally settles with blurting out, "We need to break up."

"Why?"

Stiles blinks; he had been expecting sadness or dramatics, maybe gross sobbing and hysterical begging, not casual curiosity, “Because the moon will explode and, well uh, aliens will enslave earth if we don’t. What do you mean why? We just do.”

"Okay, well, we’re broken up then, " Scott says happily then surges forward to capture a surprised Stiles’ lips in an extra passionate kiss. Stiles almost gives as his toes curl in his shoes but his bruised back throbs a little and he remembers. He squawks, pushing Scott away harshly; the shelf behind the alpha rattles but nothing spills, " Dude, the hell!?"

"What? I thought we were having make up sex!"

"What?!"

Scott lets out a frustrated groan as he reaches out to grip his boyfriend (ex??) by the shoulders, ” Dude, you’re being so confusing right now! Is it the make up sex fantasy or the coercion fantasy? Also, we kinda have to be quick because Isaac wanted a ride home.”

"Wait," Stiles flailed, adding for good measure an extra shrill, "What?!"

"What, what?" Scott asks and when he got no answer, and he fails to hear breathing to go along with Stiles’ crazy heart rate, he flips on the light. His face falls when he watches Stiles, hands covering his face, sink to the floor. Scott cocks his head to the side, lips forming a frown as he feels a weight settle on his chest. He knew something was wrong, had known for almost two weeks but…he kneels in front of Stiles, eyes sad as he asks, "Stiles…did, did I do something? Did I say something? I…please, help me understand."

Stiles sighs again but doesn’t explain; Scott reaches out to touch his boyfriend on the knee but freezes half way there. Just last week they’d been talking, joking around about how they’d be crazy senior citizens who went bungee jumping on their fiftieth anniversary and how they’d have like eight dogs who they pretended were their children. They’d even wondered about soul mates last night, then laughed at “one true love” fanfics that Stiles (the asshole) had read aloud until Scott pants’ed him (among other things). What had gone wrong, what had ruined all of that?

"It’s just…me."

Scott cocks his head to the other side as Stiles mumbles; his brow furrowed and finally Stiles repeats himself in a weary tone, removing his hands from his face, "It’s because of me, okay. I think that…we’re better friends. I think…maybe it’d be better if we just…rethought this whole thing. You could still have Allison and I, well, I just think you might be happier with a...a-"

"With a woman, " Scott deadpans, his face the epitome of not amused; he felt his heart skip a beat at the beginning but things were starting to come together now. Stiles winces, about to explain further but Scott cuts him off.

"Yeah, no."

Scott stands with a forced smile, extending a hand to help Stiles up. The other teen just stares a moment before he slowly lets himself be pulled upright; Scott doesn’t let go of his hand or explain so Stiles finally inquires, "What do you mean no?"

"I mean, no. As in I don’t agree Now, come on. Isaac’s waiting."

Stiles raises an eyebrow but Scott ignores him as he turned off the light and leads Stiles out into the empty hall way. Stiles tries to ask again, tries to pull his hand from Scott's but all he gets his a tightened grip and a loud, cheery, “Nope!” Scott fast walks towards the front parking lot with squeaky sneakers and pulls along a resisting Stiles who can only manage indignant huffs. Isaac joins them as they passed the science wing and by the time they were outside, Scott has a death grip on a red faced, full out struggling Stiles. Isaac and Scott continued to smile and chat about their plans for winter break, both pretending that Stiles isn't being basically dragged and that he doesn't have a look in his eye that says he's about to gnaw off his own arm. When they finally reach the asphaft of the parking lot, Stiles gives up his snarky shouts and tries to instead melt Scott's insides with a high powered and slightly confused glare; it doesn't work and he eventually surrenders, much to Scott's glee.

Contemplating biting Scott and making a bad dash as a second wind starts to make an appearance once they're near the jeep, Stiles feels his blood turn to ice as he catches sight of a familiar uniform and head of dark hair. Agent McCall’s eyes locked on them from across the parking lot and Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin when Scott's grip loosens, his thumb caressing his knuckles in a reassuring way. He looks up nervously and finds that Scott has ignored his father all together and is instead looking right at Stiles, eyes warm and concerned.

"I told him to get lost a week ago."

Stiles gulps. He remembers when Scott used to look up to his father, almost worship him and he looks up with guilty eyes to find...Scott doesn't look at all bothered. He blinks. The old Scott never would have been this confident and okay with his father's disapproval...then again, old Scott probably wouldn't have fought Stiles about breaking up… He frowns because no doubt he has been a bad influence on the odd-jaw teen but maybe blaming himself for Scott’s bisexuality…maybe breaking up with Scott.. As if Scott could hear his thoughts, he squeezed his hand again and grinned.

"You’re usually a lot quicker on the uptake, dude, " Scott chirps as he slings an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, kissing his cheek soundly; Isaac lets out an over dramatic whine somewhere to their left, " I don’t want Allison. I want you, and no matter what my stupid dad or you in this case says, I’ll always want you first and last. Okay?"

Untrained in the ways of feels, Stiles blurts, “ You going to throw me over your shoulder and take me to your wolf den for ravishing now? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this domineering, man.”

Scott’s eyes flashed as he grins; Isaac disappears soon after, mumbling about not liking the smell of his buddies impending make up. Soon after, Stiles lunges forward, kissing Scott with increasing confidence. He can feel Agent McCall glaring daggers into his backs but the more Scott kisses back, moaning and curling a hand in Stiles’ hair, the less he cares. When they break apart for air, Stiles offers an apologetic smile as a weight lifts from his bruised shoulders (which he finally realizes no longer hurt thanks to werewolf mojo).

"Halo at your place?"

" Duh."

"Slow and messy gay sex at your place?"

Stiles smirks at Scott's raised voice, sure he hears Agent McCall sputtering nearby, " You know it!"


	3. Someday We'll Be Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott takes care of Stiles. Post!nogitsune.

It’s just beyond his reach. He knows in his gut that he’s done terrible things, things that Scott and Deaton and his Dad aren’t willing to share with him. He knows because there’s a stain, a dark blotch in his head. He knows it’s the decay left over from a demon wearing him for weeks but he can’t understand why he can’t get past his own fears and natural weakness to access the memories, the truths he knows he was an unwilling accomplice and witness to. Deaton had tested him and he seemed to be in control now so why couldn’t he get his thoughts together?! If he could remember he could make up for what he had done (if he ever could), he could stop the nogitsune, he could find Lydia-

 _Hey, don’t worry about it,_ Scott had said when he’d hinted as much earlier; he’d given a tired, puppy dog smile and handed him a towel. If anything that made Stiles more determined to own up because if the nogitsune killed someone else (Lydia), hurt someone else while he sat on his ass he didn’t know if he could handle it. After so long of not knowing what was real, he knew the suffering he’d caused was real but then it struck him as he swayed and leaned against the tile wall…what if it wasn’t? What if he still wasn’t awake and there was more pain and murder he was committing right this second?

Suddenly the water doesn’t feel like it’s hot enough. The shower with its plastic curtain that sticks to wet flesh doesn’t feel big enough. The air, filled with moisture, doesn’t fulfill the cravings of his lungs and just like that, his observations turn to pure panic.

The water doesn’t feel like water. Instead it’s Scott’s blood but this time he guts him and starts yanking out his insides. Instead it’s Isaac’s blood as his skin splits and burns long after his final agonized wail.

Suddenly it’s not the air that’s odd; it’s his chest and his throat that are too tight, too heavy like someone is crushing him. He soon smells the putrid stench that is the nogitsune, sees his rotting teeth in his mind’s eye and all he can think is that he’s already done so much. He can’t do this again!

"Stiles, Stiles calm down-"

He fights because he can’t give in. Just like Morrell said, he can’t go to sleep; he has to keep going but he’s drowning and he can’t breathe and there’s water in his mouth and someone is holding him too tight and he just needs to breathe! He doesn’t want this. He never wanted this. He can’t let him hurt them-

"Stiles, buddy, just breathe with me! Count with me, man! One, two-"

He feels sick but he’s losing consciousness fast, lungs burning as his eyes start to blur. No, NO, he can’t go to sleep. If he goes to sleep he’s dead; if he lets go his friends and his Dad are dead! He has to fight-

"Stiles, please! You gotta listen. Just focus to my voice!"

And then he’s warm and dry. In actuality he’s being held and rocked and soothed by a desperate but familiar voice: Scott. Scott has him but he could hurt Scott if…but he’s awake so he won’t but…Stiles sucks in a breath and sobs. He’s awake. He didn’t given in.

"S-Scott-"

"Shhh, it’s okay. Let’s get you settled, alright?"

He lets himself be led back to Scott’s room in just an oversized towel. Scott doesn’t seem to mind that he’s about as coordinated as a newborn deer. He leaves Stiles alone only enough to fetch a soft, blue sweater and a pair of lounge pants and boxers; Stiles knows from their many sleep overs that these are Scott’s favorite sleep clothes. Hiccuping, he lets himself be dressed and fussed over as he tries to figure out what he needs to say; minutes later he still doesn’t know what but he ends up slurring “Sorry” as he’s tucked in. Scott stays silent as he slides under the covers too.

Eventually Stiles stops shivering and he mutters out another apology, one that is even less audible as he sinks into sleep faster than an anchor in the Pacific. Scott curls around him, relieved and tired but unable to shake the worry and suspicion the nogitsune had engrained in him. Afterall, usually Scott was the one to fall asleep first. Usually Stiles was the one offering comfort and an action plan. Normally they curled up like this mid-winter with the excuse that body heat was better than blankets (Stiles knew a thing about hypothermia). Normally they’d carelessly snooze on and off before waking to Scott’s mom coming home with dinner or to Stiles’ phone going off with a text from his dad.

But it had been a long time since usually or normally meant anything, Scott knew. In their world, safe didn’t exist but atleast, he thought as Stiles whimpered in his sleep, at the very least brothers could still have meaning.


End file.
